Brutal Planet Descent into Dragontown Tour USA 2001
Part One : Cardiff to New London
by jollyjon November 2001
v3.2
The intrepid international Alice Cooper travels of jollyjon, Si, Des, Brian Lisa all dyed in the wool UK Sick Things - 26th October to 2nd November 2001.
I'm almost (almost) lost for words.
What a week we've had in the USA. Thank you to each and every one of you that made us so welcome. So many miles so much fun.
Here comes our Lost in America report stuffed full of the usual hyperbole.
We got up to so much cool fricking stuff as I believe our New York cousins might say. Could we really have done more Si ?
Des ? Brian ? Lisa ?
- I think not ...
.
As a small competition try keeping a check on how many times I type fricking in this fricking report ok dude ? Have I gone Yank - no way old bean.
I looked up fricking in the good old Oxford English - guess what its not there.
Friday 26th October 2001 - Cardiff / Heathrow / JFK / Hempstead / Absecon
I'd packed days ago secreting sufficient sheep t shirts to last the trip. Would they get us noticed ?
You'll have to read on to find out. Left Cardiff early on the coach headed to Heathrow and got the first of many uneasy glances at my t shirt from the driver. At Heathrow machine gun toting policemen gave me a wide berth.
Had I forgotten to shower ? Found Si easily and soon hooked up with suitcase sporting Desmond from Belfast. We checked in for the 7 1/2 hour 3450 mile flight to JFK.
Passed the half empty flight masticating rubber airline fare and carbonated brown juice. Si and Des opting for that wassup fermented falling down water. Avoid United Airlines chicken its green and rubbery, and looks like sparrow.
As aliens, for that is what we were referred to at JFK (and there was I thinking we were transatlantic cousins), we had to fill in a visa waiver form. Various obvious questions were asked about whether we were criminals or terrorists. Who is gonna answer yes to those ?
My eyes fell on one question that gave me concern, had I been accused of moral turpitude ? Do you know I haven't but I liked the sound of that one. Could being a sickthing, sheep worshipper be construed as moral turpitude ?
Should I declare my strange proclivities ? Common sense eventually prevailed after another slug of diet coke and I ticked no.
At immigration I joined a queue of aliens behind Si and noted with increasing amusement that the jobsworth geezer in the booth had no intention of letting Si into the country !
! Seems Si hadn't put an address where we were staying in Atlantic City, for that was where we were headed. I had a list of hotels from Lisa in my hand luggage, so I wondered whether to let Si stew or to volunteer the info.
Can you guess which I did ? Well you're wrong - I coughed politely and in my best home counties accent suggested I might be able to help. So I crossed the yellow line and told the immigration official we were headed for an Econo Lodge in Absecon ( a notorious chain of roach motels it turned out).
Si relaxed as we talked Alice with the official. He was an Ozzy fan but I didn't hold that against him. " Alice is in the New York Post" he said scanning through same.
"Cool" I said "can I have it ?" Grudgingly he handed it over and then we were in and standing on US soil. Des of course had taken another queue and had gained entrance unmolested.
But the roles would be reversed when we were attempting to leave.
Outside we were meeted and greeted by a sign toting Brian Lisa who had been stateside for a week. On a freebus we headed to collect our green metallic Ford Taurus.
After some initial driver acclimatization Lisa ( for she was our driver) headed down the I95 for Atlantic City. Where acclimatization means drive the wrong way straight away and take an extended tour around Hempstead (sorry Lisa) before joining an enormous 3 hour traffic jam on the New York ringroad. We were ravenous by now and I could have eaten the arse end of an aardvark and as luck would have it there was a MacDonald's so we stopped to sample their legendary cardboard nosh.
Replete (ish) we mounted the wagon again only to find it wouldn't start. Bummer. We were lost in America with a malfunctioning internal combustion engine.
I slowly , as sleep beckoned, started to lose the will to live. And then roar it bursts into life and we're off heading down the pitch black I95 avoiding traffic determined to ram us off the road from all sides. We must have been jolly tired you know because we started singing along to Constrictor songs despite the fact that there was no Constrictor music to sing along to.
Absecon outside Atlantic City was to be lucky enough to have us visit with them and we pulled into the Econo Lodge at some god damn awful hour. The reception had a large pile of local papers, At The Shore and ? which both featured Alice.
We relieved the place of them all. I then crashed in a room with Des Si (but as promised guys there's no mention of our bedroom antics in this report - I'll keep them for the X rated version). We had been on the go for 24hrs and slept like Horlicks drugged dogs.
Saturday 27th October 2001 - Absecon / Atlantic City / Bellemawr
Saturday dawned, well actually it hadn't dawned when Si I woke up ravenous at 5 am. Seems my belly was on UK time. So we headed out into the dark and walked , yes we walked a mile up the road to visit with another traditional American eatery - Dennys.
We had the full bollocks as they say over here and after several coffee infusions (I nearly typed enemas what must I have been thinking about) we slowly started to come round. What seemed like hours later the others got out of their pits and we headed for Atlantic City and parked up in the Trump Marina near a car whose license plate was ALS CPR. When I say we parked in the marina I mean we parked in a fricking parking lot near the marina.
O God I am such a card.
Trump Marina is a glitzy palace to Mammon kind of in the middle of nowhere. You know what I mean shiny things with lots of escalators and a sea of pulsating groaning robot like slot machines being fed by an army of ant like sallow faced humans (?
) clutching their enormous paper cups full of quarters like their life depended on it. Maybe it did. I suspect that as the human body evolves over time we will acquire some kind of skin pouch over the heart in which to keep our quarters thereby doing away with the need for paper cups all together.
I know these palaces of tat gave one of our party the heebie geebies (didn't they Si) but this Welshman just took it in his stride. It was Sex Death Money without the Sex or maybe with the Sex - what do I know ? We checked out the Cayman Ballroom the kind of chandeliered plush carpeted place you'd hold a wedding in not a Cooper gig.
Made a mental note to myself that I was glad I wouldn't have to do the hoovering there in the morning. Within minutes of our arrival we had keyholed (hope there's no obscene US meaning) Eric Dover who was genuinely gobsmacked that we had ventured all the way across the pond in the current climate. But that's Alice's attraction, as someone said, he's as magnetic as the pole.
Outside we took photos of the huge neon sign proclaiming the Alice concert and then walked across the city to the boardwalk and the sea side. Let me tell you Cooper fans this Trump geezer is big in this town, his bleeding name is everywhere. The Trump Taj Mahal, The Trump Plaza, The Trump Economy Restrooms and HotDog Eatery - you get the picture.
We promenaded along the boardwalk which spookily is made of boards. Along most of its length it is at ground level so that unless you were a slug or a rat it would be almost impossible to go under the boardwalk - perhaps that was the idea. I'm sure you can walk under the boardwalk but it was so bright and sunny that day and the reflection coming of the ice cream tattiness that is the Trump Taj Mahal blinded me for most of my visit.
We took the bus back to the Marina and had luncheon at Hooters - what a fine chain of nosheries they are. The walls are festooned with TVs but for some reason I couldn't tell you what was on them because of the undoubted pulchritude of the waitresses. I just parked my carcass there and alternately salivated and noshed on an enormous burger thing accompanied with a shed load of curly fries.
Stuffed to the gunnels I left Hooters with heavy heart and we went down stairs six hours before the doors opened to start the queue. However it was already forming but we were fortunate to be asked to join Liz and George at the front. We settled down to pass the time chewing the cud with our fellow fans.
Pudinhead gave me the torso of a cooperized doll that he hoped I would throw on the stage but it was not to be. I was smitten by a beautiful American lady - Sarah Kovach (9). Whilst others posed I sat down and played magic tricks and the no brainer card game Snap with Sarah and her mom.
Sarah has been to plenty of Alice gigs with John her father and has had personal guitar lessons with Ryan Roxie. I gave Sarah the doll torso and she seemed genuinely pleased to receive it. Time passed and rest room breaks helped my body from seizing up.
The marina was filling up with the full palette of humanity, Halloween celebrators dressed as nurses, nuns, gangsters, vicars, wedding guests done up to the nines, cooper freaks, blue rinsed gambling addicts and I swear I saw Jesus too. As well as all these stiffs there was a vast array of masked Halloween dummies strategically placed about the main atrium. There was a series a ravens stuck in cob web strewn trees and the central fountain was spewing liquid carbon dioxide.
And we hadn't even seen Alice yet. Both Ryan and Ren made fleeting appearances and were working the lines chatting with fans and pressing any proffered flesh especially from the UK contingent.
Back at the front of the queue showtime approached as I slowly started to slip into my own private cooper zone.
We were all set to rush in the door and fast waddle to the front barrier. The doors open and in we rush only have to then wait in another inner sanctum for 30 minutes in front of one of four doors. It was just like some kind of sick Alice in Wonderland fantasy.
I was convinced that those four doors would open up into sixteen more - you get the picture. Eventually the doors open and in an uncontrolled rush (you need to sort this out Donald Trump) I arrive on the barrier next to an American family who were soon UK bound. Si arrived shortly after.
The other three were nowhere to be seen. Sarah's mum was screaming she was lost - had she been crushed ? It was entirely possible in that melee.
But no there she was appearing on the stage in front of us and she was soon reunited. The American family seemed entranced by my accent so much so that I got more and more room on the barrier. Did I know Stockton on Tees for that was where they were headed !
I was lost for words. We discussed fags, bugger and all those other little things that seem to have radically different meanings in the US. You know what I'm talking about.
Aah its Lennon time, she, for she is most definitely a she appeared on stage in a top that must have been designed by civil engineers in an homage to that Liz Hurley safety pin dress. This nu metal songstress' tunes rock and her track Goatf**cker was in heavy rotation on the car's cd player whilst we were on the road. We did only have three CDs though !
And so its nearly Alice time. I am approached by a photographer who seems to know my name. I am now as a result able to confirm without a lengthening shadow of a doubt that Matt Coddington is not Renfield.
Extra proof , if it were needed is provided when Ren appears by Matt's side to say hello too. Renfield was now aware that the Brits had landed.
And then all the travel was suddenly all worthwhile as to the strains of Sex, Death Money Alice positively smashed his way through a sheet that pitifully tried to block his entrance on stage.
I was in the zone. The setlist has been discussed ad nauseum , it was great to hear 5 from Dragontown plus some resurrected greats from the past. I have never heard Lost in America sounding so apposite with some most wild guitar work by the band.
Calico, o Calico what can I say your nurse's uniform has left a lasting impression on my sad psyche - have you grown or has your uniform been in a boil wash ? Which reminds me thanks to Pat I looked definitely in need of a launderette too after the beheading. Note to self for the full singalong experience we need to learn God Bless America.
So the show is over and we vomit out the vomitories back into the casino. I'm afraid to report that comrade shagged out is in the house and that despite the fact that most of the band made an appearance around the bar I sat slumped down on my voluminous arse totally cream crackered. I don't remember much of the aftershow rally to Bellemawr where we crashed in our second specially selected Roach motel for the night.
I'm told that I sat zombie like staring out into space for several hours hardly blinking. Completely failing to revel in the hospitality of all the toll booth staff who populate small silver capsules at all the tolls that festoon the countryside. They must be on a cracking wage collecting as they do 35 whole cents from each car.
Sunday 28th October 2001 - Bellemawr / Syracuse / Turningstone / Syracuse
Sunday is traditionally a day of rest is it not ? Start sarcasm mode. Without the slightest detrimental effects of sleep deprivation and replete with a completely satisfying Econo Lodge breakfast I positively revelled in our 8 hour car journey to Syracuse with Lennon in heavy rotation.
End sarcasm mode. We stopped off in Pennsylvania somewhere instantly forgettable for an all you can eat breakfast comprising lots of fried things, sliced things, pulverised things and some thing resembling chunky cat vomit. I wandered round a farmer's fresh produce market and made a wise $5 purchase of the biggest pumpkin I'd ever seen.
I carefully drew on some Cooper eyes and then got a passing redneck to record the photo opportunity for us. Unfortunately the pumpkin was so weighty I couldn't get it up on the parcel shelf so it had to suffocate in the trunk for the rest of the tour. I made sure Lisa stopped frequently so we could let it stretch its legs and get some fresh air.
I can't really remember that journey but I know that the outskirts of Syracuse is populated with houses all of which can be put into two styles. There are those that are built in the Anthony Perkins Psycho style and then there are those that look like the Munsters have just moved in.
So we arrive at our next salubrious motel on this our own personal Econo Lodge tour.
Rooms comfortable enough and its seems that others agreed too as we were to find out later that night. Wisely we left our stuff in the trunk and headed for Turningstone arriving in the dead of night, its twinkly twinkly sign proclaiming the way to Mammon for all to see. I ran across the freezing expanse of car park in my Cooper sheep T shirt scaring the living daylights out of four blue rinsers as they stumbled out of their dilapidated station wagon intent on losing as many quarters as they could that night.
Once inside I sidled nonchalantly through the rows of slot machine automatons and found the queue already spewing into the auditorium. We had numbered seats at a table one row back from the stage. Front tables being reserved for the tribe.
Something that wasn't gonna stop me later on the tour. Seats for 800 all told with no one showing any inclination of wanting or maybe being even able to stand during the show. Renfield arrived at our table and was kind enough to give us VIP backstage passes.
Lovely jubbly.
Its showtime and Alice hits the stage to polite applause, come on Turningstoners its wasn't a fricking tea dance for gawd's sake. Sitting down to Alice are you mad ?
How I managed to control myself until NMMNG before leaping up like an overweight whirling dervish I don't know. I was up and was not sitting down for any one. Alice seemed pleased there was a small bunch of freaks in the audience showing some kind of emotion as the rest of the punters sat there Stepford Wives like.
Alice winged the whip my way but bugger some tosser on the next table grabbed it. Alice was as miffed with this state of affairs as I was as he skilfully handed me the cane later during the show. Result.
Alice and I duetted on Elected. Well that's how I saw it. He held the microphone at me as I bellowed out the words in my best stentorian eminem.
What Alice said next is the subject of some debate in our flange but I heard Alice proclaim " Yeah the British sheep contingent !" Ryan on a rare visit to our side of the stage managed to wing a plectrum / pick down Lisa's ample cleavage. She seemed particularly pleased but I reckon it was an easy shot !
!!!
(sorry Lisa). We had a blast at this show but how some of the people there couldn't even be bothered to stand for the American flag caused me and Alice a degree of consternation. I just hope there are good $ reasons for playing that casino ?
Hey we've got VIP backstage passes which we proffer to a besuited casino lackey to gain admittance to the inner sanctum. We joined some radio station and casino people who are filed in to meet Alice whilst we (I) stare blankly at a large TV showing something called the World Series between two teams dressed in their pyjamas. Its certainly not cricket but seems to be just as exciting.
Toby seemed taken with it all. Alice's team seemed to be ahead allegedly. Bored I sat down and gassed with Ryan who sought clarification of the Cooper sheep issue.
I elucidated and I learned from Ryan that the good men of Nebraska may well enjoy the same sport that healthy Welshmen do too. Renfield appeared after everyone had filed through and decided to bring a gloveless Alice into see us. We were very well behaved.
Alice signed Des' excellent T shirt and Brian Lisa's leather jackets. Ever the shrinking violet I asked Alice if I could get a mutual strangulation photo. He was immediately happy to oblige squeezing just that little bit harder than necessary as I had failed to deliver the three gross of Alice Cooper Allegedly Cooper Sheep T shirts I had fricking promised to deliver last May in Manchester when we hammered out a deal on his tour bus.
We discussed the UK contingent's singing, the need for a full rendition of Dada and Si was prostrate on the ground begging for Sister Sara. Alice reconfirmed a Spring 2002 European Tour. We thanked Alice for the chinwag old boy and before leaving I grabbed a pic with Renfield inquiring " Can I get a picture with Matt Coddington ?
" Alice stood and checked out the shenanigans. We said our goodbyes and scurried out into the casino feeling as high as kites that had been on a course entitled "How to be as high as a kite" and passed with flying colours. We ponced around with some other fans who wanted to take a closer look at the UK garden variety of sickthing.
We decided to celebrate by noshing down at a Dunkin' Donuts where we relived our pow wow with Alice. As Wayne Campbell said do we know how to party or what ! We had just met Alice Cooper !
Something which Lisa undertook to remind us and anyone else who came into sight of ad nauseum for the rest of the tour. I am happy to report that Lisa is a woman of her word. Back at the hotel all was quiet until we swept our keypass on the lodge door.
There was someone asleep in our fricking bed. "I was just cleaning the room" he said. "Yeah right with the fricking lights off and asleep in my bed ?
" I riposted. I fricking tore into the hotel manager who gave us another room. How big of him.
Note to rest of the troops. We need to go upmarket if we ever do this again. Econo Lodges can go frick themselves as far as I am concerned.
I slept the sleep of the righteous that night. Besides we were leaving Econo behind and using Red Roof and a W107th St hotel on the rest of the trip. They were bound to be better.
Little did I know...
Monday 29th October 2001 - Syracuse / Cooperstown / Springfield / New London
Good news - no concert tonight we have a day off. Lets celebrate by driving for ten hours on America's interstates ! We set off early stopping for breakfast at another one of America's finest purveyors of travellers fare - Burger King.
We caught a brief glimpse of Alice there (relax Bill) he was only on the TV in the Marriott commercial. Mid morning we cruised into Cooperstown home of some game where they wave a big stick at a ball and holler a lot for some photo opportunities. I'm pretty sure the locals didn't really realise why we were there.
For example I found a store called A Cooperstown Christmas and managed to get an allegedly attractive policeman (the prettiest cop on the block) to pose for a sneaky pic outside. He had a lovely big piece of yellow chalk on a stick that he was keen on brandishing at any opportunity. This low tech system was Cooperstown's parking permit system he explained.
I tried to stifle a yawn but failed miserably. Took a photo of me grimacing by a poster for something called the Cardiff Giant, me being a Cardiff Wales Resident you see ? Can anyone tell me what a Cardiff Giant is / was ?
We stopped at a one horse town outside of Albany (if truth be told I suspect it didn't have a single horse) for a most excellent Salami sandwich extravagance. I even managed to phone home from a pay phone in the street after many aborted attempts in the big city previously. Spoke to Sons Number 1, 2 3 and her indoors, felt small pangs of homesickedness.
Aaaahhh - but it soon passed. Was delighted to learn that number two had just completed his drama homework about an imaginary monster having used the words from Black Widow as a framework. Have I brought that boy up well or what ?
Loss of consciousness and violent convulsions you get the picture.
It became apparent that today's journey was going to be a long one on the way to Albany. By majority decision we dropped our next stop on the itinery Springfield which spookily has the same name of the town that my favourite yellow skinned cartoon characters live in.
Such a shame so many decent photo opportunities spurned. Instead we settled for hanging out the window each time we hurtled past a Springfield road sign. I'll eat my pants, gusset and all if those snaps come out (obviously in the privacy of my own home).
We hurried through Salem Mass as the pitch black night which was black as pitch drew in. Whilst we thought we might be in the UK as we passed Manchester, Colchester, Windsor and Enfield it was readily apparent by listening to the proliferation of great classic rock stations on the radio that we were not. I remember WCCC which may or may not have been sponsored by Armitage Shanks.
With Goatf**cker booming out we pulled into the parking lot at New London's Red Roof Motel.
A night off meant we could party, paint the town red. So we headed to a surf and turf eatery where I sucked down a few Rolling Rocks and plumped for a New England dish of mucho beef, gravy and red mash.
Nice. Des and I had a shirt fest that night.
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